Angel
by Kentra02
Summary: Heero watches Duo watch his memories


Title: Angel  
  
Author: Kentra Shinataku  
  
Pairings: 1+2+1  
  
Warnings: sappish/angstish stuff, religion (or lack thereof), Heero POV,  
  
Summary: Heero watches Duo watch his memories  
  
**********  
  
I wasn't surprised that he was sitting in the last pew. He didn't do this often. I felt awkward standing outside the sanctuary like this and just _watching_ him; I should have been in there with him. Instead, I watched him through the glass windows in the little lobby, reminding myself that this was his time. He'd rather be alone now than have me with him. He needed that time for himself, to remember. This wasn't my territory, not something I could understand. He didn't need me to hold his hand, though gods, I wish I could. His eyes were so distant. I wanted to pull him back into the present.   
  
This wasn't the same kind of church that he was raised in. From what he's told me, this church is different than what he'd be used to. I don't know about the subject matter, because I was never taught any religion, but there are little things that I saw right off. Maybe I'm wrong; maybe a church is a church, as long as the people are praising God. I don't know, and I won't ever understand.  
  
His shoulders were slumped in defeat, and even more I wished to be with him, to put my arms around him. He likes when I'm forward with him, but I was sure that this wasn't the place. I couldn't hear what the robed figure in the front was saying, but every once in a while, Duo's shoulder blades would twitch with discomfort and he'd turn his head to the side. Why did he torture himself like that?   
  
I forced myself to admire the skilled carvings on the ends of a pew that had been moved into the lobby for seating. I didn't like seeing him this way, especially when I couldn't do anything to help. The wood was obviously very old. I'm sure Duo would have seen something in it that I couldn't, some kind of life or tale, but I just saw wood. It didn't exactly concern me, but it suddenly made me feel very uncomfortable. I knew I didn't belong here. It wasn't my place.  
  
I was relieved when Duo slipped through the shadows and out the side door, his shoulders sulking and his bangs hiding his clouded eyes. He jammed his hands in the pockets of his long, black, coat and tilted his head in a gesture toward the door. He hadn't waited until the service was over, and I wondered if that was alright.  
  
It was raining outside, and it was very dark, the only light coming from the sporadic street lights littering the side walk. The moon didn't even show it's tired face behind the clouds. Duo was a stride ahead of me, his heavy shoes splashing through the water accumulated in the deeper pieces of the side walk. He was so dejected and definitely had a bitter streak trekking through his eyes. All I wanted was to reach out and touch him. It wasn't as if we were secretive about our relationship; over time, as we grew closer to each other, we became so comfortable that we'd hold hands in public, and maybe sneak a kiss. For some reason, I felt as though I should leave him alone now. He was angry, and I didn't like receiving Shinigami's bitter words anymore than he liked throwing them at me. I loved him, though, and I didn't want to let him fight his ghosts alone.  
  
But when I finally mustered the courage to reach out and take his arm, he flinched and tore it away from me, and he looked at me with eyes I didn't know, eyes that scared me. He blinked, and softened a little, relaxing his harsh frontage.  
  
"I'm sorry," he murmured, not bothering to turn his painful eyes away. I didn't respond, but held out my hand for him to take or not. He did, and we kept walking, now side by side.  
  
Something needed to be said. Something. Anything. The rain was too disquieting, and it was standing in the way of our words. Luckily, neither of us minded the wet.  
  
"Did you find what you wanted?" I asked, awkwardly slicing the discomfort.  
  
A hint of a cynical smile captured his lips. "I'm not Lutheran."  
  
"But you're not Catholic, either," I reminded him, gently. He shrugged vaguely, chewing on the information for a few minutes. It worried me, seeing him like this, but I couldn't just ignore this part of him.   
  
"I believe in Death."  
  
I wasn't sure how to respond, uncertain of what he needed to say behind the general statement, but there was something. He knew I wasn't good at coaxing things out of him, but maybe he needed it. The street lights kept dropping gold on us as we walked: yellow, grey, and yellow again, the light never really reaching into the very bottom of the puddles. I couldn't figure out what to say without sounding inconsiderate.  
  
"Everyone believes in death. We die. That's what happens."  
  
To my surprise, he laughed. "Yeah, but people believe that there's Something out there listening to their every wish, that helps them stay alive. They believe that after they die they're going to shine with wings and a halo and a robe. They think that when they die, they're going to live a wonderful, new, life. Their death and the Death that I believe in aren't the same thing."  
  
That made sense to me, but I assumed there was more to it than that. It wasn't that simple; there must have been something else lurking behind the dim explanation that I just couldn't see.  
  
"What about the people you dream of?"  
  
"Sister Helen and Father Maxwell? Solo?" He recoiled slightly, but I didn't regret asking. He was old enough to handle the pain a memory could blanket him with. "They're... well, they're wherever they want to be. Heaven or Hell, or whatever," he glanced at me disconcertedly, his head tilted to the side a little, "See, y'know that feeling you get sometimes, like you've got someone holding on to you even when you're all alone? Like... like you're kind of warm inside? It's like that, so I don't know, but I think... I think it means they're still lookin' out for me. I sort of figure they've got to be _somewhere_, 'cause at least they're alive in my dreams."  
  
I wished, for only a moment that I could relate, that I could understand him better. I hadn't been cared for like that and I didn't really have anyone to miss. I didn't think I'd like missing them.  
  
"Like angels?" I suddenly asked.  
  
"Yeah. Death or Life or whatever. They're still my angels."  
  
It wasn't crystal clear, but it was good enough for me.  
  
*** 


End file.
